“By failing to understand the physiological needs of our bodies, by ignoring human limitations we have followed technology and economics into a world that risks becoming unfit for the human race. We have tied together the natural global village but forgotten the temporal dimension that lies at the essence of our being” (Moore-Ede, Martin).
The strong smell of coffee is in the air as if enveloping the room in a dense cloud. Groups of many shapes and sizes huddle around small round tables and sip their cups of warm liquid as they converse with the world outside of the café. At all of the tables an individual sits, with a computer or some other sort of electronic communicator in their hand or lap and continues to fervently type away at the bright screen in front of their faces. Moreover, all the time avoiding the person sitting nearest themselves. The only sound in the café is that of the click of the keyboards and the beeps of phones. The murmur of voices does not exist and true communication is lost.
Is this not the picture of the public places frequented by groups of people from around the world? The individuals of the group are sitting with each other but they are not communicating with each other, they are communicating with others outside the café. Instead of spending our time face to face with an individual and having a deep intellectual conversation, we choose to ignore the task and skirt around it finding a way out by suddenly remembering a text message that urgently needed to be sent. Technology has helped our society in many great ways (through such learning tools as Rosetta Stone © and places to communicate about politics such as blogs), but in other ways it has hindered our ability to do things that are supposed to be in the very fibers of our beings: communication!
Due to our advances in science and technology, some of our intellectual and literary skills have been down graded and regarded almost as silly or ridiculous. In history, those traits and abilities were seen as something of great worth and esteem (Rulford, Robert). For those of us not in the history books who love books, it has been evident that we have seen this firsthand.
One Sunday afternoon my first year at school, I was sitting quietly at my desk reading a book. It was not a textbook or part of an assignment for a class; it was an enjoyable book full of mystery and suspense. As I continued to pour over the words on the crisp white pages, my roommate glided into the room and proceeded to stare at me as if I was a specimen in a museum. After looking at me for several minutes, she casually asked me what class I was studying for and I proclaimed that I was not; I was just enjoying a good book. My roommate looked at me oddly for a moment and then suggested that I get a Facebook© account so that I could meet people and not have to be sitting alone reading a book. All of sudden I felt wrong inside; it was as if she had exposed my nakedness to the world. I was ashamed of something that used to be enjoyable to me. Book reading and expanding one’s mind used to be an art form that is now only considered a paragraph in a history book.
Throughout the seventeenth century, people would pay sums of money in order to meet in people’s homes; these meetings were referred to as salons. In these salons, the group would spend hours communicating on topics such as politics, religion, and art. The people who would be talking would speak so passionately that they would raise their voices or laugh in delight. The getting together and meeting to talk was vital to their social existence and encouraged reading and study of the subjects, which were discussed (D’Evelyn, Tom). How could something that used to be so important and so entertaining be regarded as ridiculous. Expanding the mind via literature has never been a bad thing; in fact, it is responsible for creating much good in the world.
So, what have we lost? In the twenty-first century, conversation is purposefully avoided. The moment that the word religion or politics seeps from the lips of an individual, like a computer virus into a program, the other individual quickly changes the subject as to avoid catastrophic damage to their own ideals. Recently, people are afraid of being offended and challenged. If the name Jesus Christ seeps from a person’s lips or if the subject of abortion being wrong is talked about, someone becomes hardheaded and guarded, as if protecting themselves from homicide to their opinions and religious beliefs. To avoid the subject the person takes out his or her phone and begins to text message a friend about how shocked he or she is that one would speak of such things in front of him or her. A person’s trepidation allows him or her to use technology as a crutch and has given the individual the opportunity to be lazy. If their ideas are not challenged, they have no need to do research and study to create a good argument. Therefore, conversation becomes a petty instance of “hi, how are you” and that is the end of it. In addition, no one really learns anything or is able to have a meaningful moment with someone they deemed important in their life. Friends no longer carry on conversations and never comprehend how their loved one felt about an issue.
What has happened to grammar? IDK and @ are not words. They are computer symbols that should only be used in the realm of cyberspace or are used in specific job fields, which are not always understood in nonprofessional terms. It seems that symbols such as these have crept into other parts of our lives and have corrupted our ability to spell. There have been instances of students using these symbols in essays and projects, where they do not belong. However, why should one need to spell when the Microsoft word processor does it for you? I must admit that these tools are good, but in moderation. Being able to double check spelling and grammar is a good thing but when it becomes a crutch so much that a person cannot spell on their own, and then we have a problem. The use of computers and cell phones has become a drug more addictive and more deadly to the human mind than anything else ever seen in the human race. People slowly start to use emails and stop writing letters. Soon they are sending text messages and not talking on the phone at all. After that, they spend time watching television shows and movies on YouTube instead of spending time reading a book. It is a sad moment in history.
Where are we headed? If we continue at this rate, we will be illiterate and unable to learn (Schwartz, Susan). Computers will read, do work, and slowly control every aspect of our lives. Global awareness is important, but how can we be aware of what is written in a newspaper or magazine article if we can no longer read? Moreover, how are we to comprehend news shows on politics and disease epidemics when we cannot understand basic vocabulary? Technology has become another form of idol worship that has the ability to engulf the world in its dark snare. There is nothing “old fashioned” or weird about having a meaningful conversation or reading a book. On the other hand, there is nothing wrong with Facebook© or YouTube© (but not to the extent of getting carpel tunnel or going blind), but how about shutting the computer down for a couple of hours to go outside of the room and get some fresh air (Norwich, William).
The challenge is not necessarily to read more books and have more dynamic conversations, but maybe just be able to converse openly and honestly. In this way we can spread global awareness of issues by word of mouth, to allow the truth and real knowledge to drift into the limelight; it will encourage someone to truly make a difference in our world. Nevertheless, with conversation there must be listening, so how about taking the head phones out and putting the IPod© away.
Let us talk!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Consulting the Lady (A Story)
Chapter One
It started when he decided to buy the house outside of the city. He had originally told me that he was looking for a house in the country in order to satisfy some need to get away from the crowds and the noise of a naked city. But in many ways I was suspicious. I was not happy to learn that he had not included me in his decision to search for our new home, but lately he had been doing many things behind my back.
We had been married for three years and seemed to be getting along well. But deep inside I could feel the separation beginning to grow in our hearts. It was as if an unseen hand was being wedged in between our two beings and we could not draw near to each other in order to save the emotions that we had felt. And each day I woke up beside him, I felt the fears that were welling up inside of him that would lead to paranoia. He was beginning to feel suffocated by the wife who lay in the bed next to him and I was tired of his many deceptions.
So, we bought the house.
I remember the first day that Brian took me out to see it. He was so proud, like a young boy who had built some small thing from scratch. The smile on his face was as wide as I had ever seen it and his hands were clenched in anticipation. Slowly we made our way down the sunny wooded road. The curves of the road and the sun that shined on my face made me slightly queasy and I held tightly onto the arm rest wondering why I had gone along with the buying of the house out in the middle of “no man’s land” where I had never been before. The whole trip became a bit of a chore for me. And as we continued down the lonely road, I also felt a sense of dread grow like weeds in a garden. It began to implant itself into the pit of my stomach and would not diminish. Inside I felt that something was very wrong with the decision that we had made and as we neared our destination the feelings become even more overpowering. But I tried to hold it inside and act as pleasantly as possible, I did not want Brian to feel that I was a weak and silly female who could not handle a move to the country. And I allowed myself to calm down and to look at the beautiful scenery about me.
It was a beautiful place. Beyond the trees that lined the road there was a flat expanse of fields and beyond that were an assortment of mountains. It was as if the green and gray mountains were piercing the clear blue sky and protecting the earth below from its severe state. The air was cool and clean as it filtered through the windows and acted as a cooling agent to the stuffiness of my skin. Slowly I began to ignore the feeling in my heart and the idea of moving to a new place, it could be a new start for Brian and me. Maybe Brian and I could start over and fix our marriage.
Chapter Two
We finally turned off of the road and turned into a long driveway. Any house that had been around for more than a hundred yeas had had a long drive way, which did not make much sense, since cars were not even invented until the early nineteen hundreds.
Nevertheless, our car crawled down the gravel drive. Slowly my heart began to beat with anxiety. It was as if I was about to face some judgment; judgment for a crime that I did not commit.
As we traveled over another gravel hill, the house came into view. It stood in front of us as if a giant being. The large darkened windows were like dark eyes which showed the very soul of the house. This soul was empty and lonely; it had never understood the importance of love, affection, or emotion, but instead had remained aloof. And it slowly created a hatred for anyone who would inhabit the place. The brick of the house was worse than the darkened windows. They stood as harsh reminders of the fortress that stood beyond it.
My feet were like cinderblocks as I exited the car. My stomach was full of butterflies, as if warning me to turn back and runaway, to keep as far away from it as possible. We entered the establishment slowly and Brian kept grinning at me as if he was giving me the “Hope Diamond.” The house was cool and smelled of darkness, as if the whole place belonged below ground.
He took my hand and led me through the vast rooms of the house. I numbly listened to him as he continued to chatter about the plans he had make for each room. And suddenly, my mind seemed to turn back on, as if a switch was flipped. It felt as if the insides of my entire being were on fire and I became angry. He had not chosen to consult with me about these plans. I don’t believe he had ever listened to me when I talked to him about us being equals and making decisions together. It was as if he was asserting his leadership over me; he considered himself to be above me somehow, instead of my equal. This revelation began to press onto my heart and made me suddenly sad at the same time. Why couldn’t things just be easy for all? And why was I in this house today, looking at rooms that I do not want to inhabit. It was a question that would continue to plague me for a long time.
Brian and I finally made our way to the back of the house and into the kitchen. He continued to go on about his ideas for the room and I listened a little more attentively. I was attentive, not because it was the thing I should do to be a good wife, but to prove to him that I was the better person. Well according to my anger and pride I was a better person. And I allowed our differences to build a rift between us. Sighing, I turned to actually look at my surroundings. The house itself wasn’t bad; I had come to this place in a bad mood and judged it before I got a chance to look at it. But something still felt wrong to me and I was not sure how to shake the feeling.
Two weeks later, we moved in. Our furniture from the apartment barely filled the large rooms, leaving more space than we needed. Each room looked like a museum that was under budget and could not afford to fill it. It made the whole place eerie and odd looking. I did not feel at home in the surroundings at all and I wanted to turn and leave again. But I buckled down and started unpacking the small amount of boxes that took up the space of about ten tiles out of thousands in the large foyer. I picked a small box up and began to take it up the enormous staircase and into the bedroom. I slowly unpacked our objects and began to set up house in the room.
As I was placing some books on a shelf I heard a sound behind me and quickly turned around. The book dropped to the floor. I looked around the room but there was no one in sight. I thought that it was my imagination playing tricks on me. And I turned back to my chore. But a gnawing feeling kept tugging at the back of my brain and would not relent. So I set the book down and headed downstairs. Brian was in the kitchen getting a drink of water, or so I thought, as I neared the kitchen I heard the sink running, but as I approached the threshold of the kitchen I heard another sound.
I heard my husband’s voice talking soft and low, as if he were in a darkened theater and needed to ask a question. I stood next to the doorway and listened.
“She loves the place, yeah of course. I knew it would work.” He spoke first and then silence took over as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Well I have a lot of work to do here, but it will be worth it when we finish and I will have taken care of the real problem….”
What problem?
“…And if you need anything give me a call. Alright, see you later.” I heard the beep as he silenced the conversation of the cell phone. I felt as if I had just been punched in the stomach and was going to regurgitate on the mahogany wood floor. Something was very wrong about that conversation, but I did not know what. I tried to disregard my feelings and let it go, he may not have been trying to be secretive, and being hushed doesn’t mean there is something to hide. But I still felt wrong about the conversation. Slowly I turned and headed into the kitchen. Before I could stop it I felt my mouth opening and forming words.
“So, who was that on the phone?” I regretted it as soon as it came out. He might become suspicious of me.
“What are you talking about?” He looked at me as if I had grown antlers.
“I heard you talking to someone.”
“Really? Maybe you were making up another one of those crazy daydreams.” He enjoyed making fun of my overactive imagination; he could not understand my thought processes.
“Please don’t mock me.” I said it in the same hushed tone that he had just used on the phone.
“Then, I won’t.” His voice had an angry sarcastic tone to it. And I knew as soon as he left the room that he considered that the end of the conversation. I wanted to be sick.
I turned to follow him down the hallway, but stopped suddenly as if stopped by an invisible wall between us. He noticed my hesitation behind him and turned quickly and stared at me strangely.
For a moment I thought he was possessed. The look in his eyes was an odd far away glance as if he was looking through me. But his eyes were also filled with an emotion that I could not read. I saw his lips begin to utter something, and glanced at his clenched fists at his side. My heart slowly began to pound as he drew near me slowly, as if slithering toward my person. And after a moment of brief shock, I turned and began to quickly turn back and head for the kitchen.
My feet felt as if they were going to fall off of my ankles and my heart began to leap into my chest. I could feel his breathing on my neck now. It was hot and almost felt sinister. I was not sure what to make of it, but it felt as if he was moving me in that direction, without even touching me. As if his mind had control over my limbs and I was at the mercy of his power.
It felt like years before we reached the kitchen and I collapsed in a chair, surprisingly, exhausted! He plunked the chair across from me down and sat staring at me. My body froze in fear and I waited to hear him speak. He just sat there scrutinizing me for several minutes. The silence was like a dense cloud in the air and the dread I was feeling slowly began to feel more like terror.
We just sat there for several minutes staring at each other and thinking behind our eyes. I wouldn’t doubt that we were both wondering what each person was thinking and was trying to find a smart way to get the upper hand. I didn’t want to seem suspicious, I had already done that with the phone call and now he was acting so peculiarly. Slowly I pulled myself up off of the chair and proceeded to move away from the table. Suddenly he slammed his fists on the table, stood up quickly, and left the room. A couple seconds later I heard the front door slam.
I sank into the chair again and shook my head. I suddenly felt exhausted and ashamed. Ashamed of what, I wondered?
It started when he decided to buy the house outside of the city. He had originally told me that he was looking for a house in the country in order to satisfy some need to get away from the crowds and the noise of a naked city. But in many ways I was suspicious. I was not happy to learn that he had not included me in his decision to search for our new home, but lately he had been doing many things behind my back.
We had been married for three years and seemed to be getting along well. But deep inside I could feel the separation beginning to grow in our hearts. It was as if an unseen hand was being wedged in between our two beings and we could not draw near to each other in order to save the emotions that we had felt. And each day I woke up beside him, I felt the fears that were welling up inside of him that would lead to paranoia. He was beginning to feel suffocated by the wife who lay in the bed next to him and I was tired of his many deceptions.
So, we bought the house.
I remember the first day that Brian took me out to see it. He was so proud, like a young boy who had built some small thing from scratch. The smile on his face was as wide as I had ever seen it and his hands were clenched in anticipation. Slowly we made our way down the sunny wooded road. The curves of the road and the sun that shined on my face made me slightly queasy and I held tightly onto the arm rest wondering why I had gone along with the buying of the house out in the middle of “no man’s land” where I had never been before. The whole trip became a bit of a chore for me. And as we continued down the lonely road, I also felt a sense of dread grow like weeds in a garden. It began to implant itself into the pit of my stomach and would not diminish. Inside I felt that something was very wrong with the decision that we had made and as we neared our destination the feelings become even more overpowering. But I tried to hold it inside and act as pleasantly as possible, I did not want Brian to feel that I was a weak and silly female who could not handle a move to the country. And I allowed myself to calm down and to look at the beautiful scenery about me.
It was a beautiful place. Beyond the trees that lined the road there was a flat expanse of fields and beyond that were an assortment of mountains. It was as if the green and gray mountains were piercing the clear blue sky and protecting the earth below from its severe state. The air was cool and clean as it filtered through the windows and acted as a cooling agent to the stuffiness of my skin. Slowly I began to ignore the feeling in my heart and the idea of moving to a new place, it could be a new start for Brian and me. Maybe Brian and I could start over and fix our marriage.
Chapter Two
We finally turned off of the road and turned into a long driveway. Any house that had been around for more than a hundred yeas had had a long drive way, which did not make much sense, since cars were not even invented until the early nineteen hundreds.
Nevertheless, our car crawled down the gravel drive. Slowly my heart began to beat with anxiety. It was as if I was about to face some judgment; judgment for a crime that I did not commit.
As we traveled over another gravel hill, the house came into view. It stood in front of us as if a giant being. The large darkened windows were like dark eyes which showed the very soul of the house. This soul was empty and lonely; it had never understood the importance of love, affection, or emotion, but instead had remained aloof. And it slowly created a hatred for anyone who would inhabit the place. The brick of the house was worse than the darkened windows. They stood as harsh reminders of the fortress that stood beyond it.
My feet were like cinderblocks as I exited the car. My stomach was full of butterflies, as if warning me to turn back and runaway, to keep as far away from it as possible. We entered the establishment slowly and Brian kept grinning at me as if he was giving me the “Hope Diamond.” The house was cool and smelled of darkness, as if the whole place belonged below ground.
He took my hand and led me through the vast rooms of the house. I numbly listened to him as he continued to chatter about the plans he had make for each room. And suddenly, my mind seemed to turn back on, as if a switch was flipped. It felt as if the insides of my entire being were on fire and I became angry. He had not chosen to consult with me about these plans. I don’t believe he had ever listened to me when I talked to him about us being equals and making decisions together. It was as if he was asserting his leadership over me; he considered himself to be above me somehow, instead of my equal. This revelation began to press onto my heart and made me suddenly sad at the same time. Why couldn’t things just be easy for all? And why was I in this house today, looking at rooms that I do not want to inhabit. It was a question that would continue to plague me for a long time.
Brian and I finally made our way to the back of the house and into the kitchen. He continued to go on about his ideas for the room and I listened a little more attentively. I was attentive, not because it was the thing I should do to be a good wife, but to prove to him that I was the better person. Well according to my anger and pride I was a better person. And I allowed our differences to build a rift between us. Sighing, I turned to actually look at my surroundings. The house itself wasn’t bad; I had come to this place in a bad mood and judged it before I got a chance to look at it. But something still felt wrong to me and I was not sure how to shake the feeling.
Two weeks later, we moved in. Our furniture from the apartment barely filled the large rooms, leaving more space than we needed. Each room looked like a museum that was under budget and could not afford to fill it. It made the whole place eerie and odd looking. I did not feel at home in the surroundings at all and I wanted to turn and leave again. But I buckled down and started unpacking the small amount of boxes that took up the space of about ten tiles out of thousands in the large foyer. I picked a small box up and began to take it up the enormous staircase and into the bedroom. I slowly unpacked our objects and began to set up house in the room.
As I was placing some books on a shelf I heard a sound behind me and quickly turned around. The book dropped to the floor. I looked around the room but there was no one in sight. I thought that it was my imagination playing tricks on me. And I turned back to my chore. But a gnawing feeling kept tugging at the back of my brain and would not relent. So I set the book down and headed downstairs. Brian was in the kitchen getting a drink of water, or so I thought, as I neared the kitchen I heard the sink running, but as I approached the threshold of the kitchen I heard another sound.
I heard my husband’s voice talking soft and low, as if he were in a darkened theater and needed to ask a question. I stood next to the doorway and listened.
“She loves the place, yeah of course. I knew it would work.” He spoke first and then silence took over as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Well I have a lot of work to do here, but it will be worth it when we finish and I will have taken care of the real problem….”
What problem?
“…And if you need anything give me a call. Alright, see you later.” I heard the beep as he silenced the conversation of the cell phone. I felt as if I had just been punched in the stomach and was going to regurgitate on the mahogany wood floor. Something was very wrong about that conversation, but I did not know what. I tried to disregard my feelings and let it go, he may not have been trying to be secretive, and being hushed doesn’t mean there is something to hide. But I still felt wrong about the conversation. Slowly I turned and headed into the kitchen. Before I could stop it I felt my mouth opening and forming words.
“So, who was that on the phone?” I regretted it as soon as it came out. He might become suspicious of me.
“What are you talking about?” He looked at me as if I had grown antlers.
“I heard you talking to someone.”
“Really? Maybe you were making up another one of those crazy daydreams.” He enjoyed making fun of my overactive imagination; he could not understand my thought processes.
“Please don’t mock me.” I said it in the same hushed tone that he had just used on the phone.
“Then, I won’t.” His voice had an angry sarcastic tone to it. And I knew as soon as he left the room that he considered that the end of the conversation. I wanted to be sick.
I turned to follow him down the hallway, but stopped suddenly as if stopped by an invisible wall between us. He noticed my hesitation behind him and turned quickly and stared at me strangely.
For a moment I thought he was possessed. The look in his eyes was an odd far away glance as if he was looking through me. But his eyes were also filled with an emotion that I could not read. I saw his lips begin to utter something, and glanced at his clenched fists at his side. My heart slowly began to pound as he drew near me slowly, as if slithering toward my person. And after a moment of brief shock, I turned and began to quickly turn back and head for the kitchen.
My feet felt as if they were going to fall off of my ankles and my heart began to leap into my chest. I could feel his breathing on my neck now. It was hot and almost felt sinister. I was not sure what to make of it, but it felt as if he was moving me in that direction, without even touching me. As if his mind had control over my limbs and I was at the mercy of his power.
It felt like years before we reached the kitchen and I collapsed in a chair, surprisingly, exhausted! He plunked the chair across from me down and sat staring at me. My body froze in fear and I waited to hear him speak. He just sat there scrutinizing me for several minutes. The silence was like a dense cloud in the air and the dread I was feeling slowly began to feel more like terror.
We just sat there for several minutes staring at each other and thinking behind our eyes. I wouldn’t doubt that we were both wondering what each person was thinking and was trying to find a smart way to get the upper hand. I didn’t want to seem suspicious, I had already done that with the phone call and now he was acting so peculiarly. Slowly I pulled myself up off of the chair and proceeded to move away from the table. Suddenly he slammed his fists on the table, stood up quickly, and left the room. A couple seconds later I heard the front door slam.
I sank into the chair again and shook my head. I suddenly felt exhausted and ashamed. Ashamed of what, I wondered?
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